


If you want love

by ans8812



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Chicago Blackhawks, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Pittsburgh Penguins, Porn With Plot, Rare Pairings, dynamic imbalance, omegas treated as lesser citizens, pretty boy in oversized t-shirt, unpopular pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ans8812/pseuds/ans8812
Summary: The Blackhawks were down three games to one in the series. This was do or die; third period, no score, and Patrick had the puck. Then he didn’t, as a huge body slammed him into the boards, almost sending him headfirst into his own team bench. But the electric jolt that went through his veins on the impact of that big body was, well, shocking.





	If you want love

Patrick woke up sweating. No wonder; there was a 200-pound Russian bear draped around him. And it was summer in Pittsburgh, which meant humidity thick enough to choke an elephant even before the sun rose. Patrick was not much for cuddling, or even casual touching and hand-holding. He valued his personal space. Probably because, as an omega, it was one of the few things in life he could control. Not that many people were aware of his social status. No, he kept that little fact about himself well-hidden, thanks to modern medical advancements.

When his parents discovered he had some real hockey talent at age four, they made a choice to do everything they could to allow him to be what he wanted — what he had potential — to be. A professional hockey player in the NHL. So he has been receiving shots in the ass every three years since then to suppress his natural omega scent and physiological reactions, not only to hide what he is, but also to allow him to function like a normal human being among the Alphas and betas allowed to play the sport on a professional level. In addition, he had to take a pill every day that was kind of like birth control and ibuprofen rolled into one. It ebbed the overwhelming urges of his heat and was 100% effective at preventing pregnancy.

Growing up, none of Patrick’s coaches, teachers or peers even suspected he was not anything less than a beta. In fact, he was so good that some of the other hockey parents wanted him off the team in order for their kids to play and have a chance at scoring goals. Patrick was always smaller, but smarter and quicker, and oh so infuriating to his opponents. Eventually, he was moved up to play with the older kids, some of whom were twice his age and size. They always wanted to be on his team though, not playing against him.

Still no one suspected anything when he was taken first overall by the Chicago Blackhawks in the NHL draft last year at 18-years old. Management, coaches, teammates and other players never questioned him, especially after they saw what he could do on skates with a stick and a puck. His skill preceded him. That is, until the Stanley Cup Finals last June. The Hawks were playing the Penguins for the championship trophy and title. Patrick’s suppressant shot was wearing off.

The Blackhawks were down three games to one in the series. This was do or die; third period, no score, and Patrick had the puck. Then he didn’t, as a huge body slammed him into the boards, almost sending him headfirst into his own team bench. But the electric jolt that went through his veins on the impact of that big body was, well, shocking. He felt dizzy and suddenly short of breath. The big body was Evgeni Malkin, wide-eyed and mouth agape. Evgeni must have felt that too, but there was a hockey game going on around them.

In the handshake line, after the Pens defeated the Hawks and Patrick was trying not to cry as he watched the Stanley Cup victory slip away and pain creeping in around the edges as the suppressant shot became less and less effective, Geno patted him on the shoulder. Leaning in, voice rumbling in Patrick’s ear, Geno said in his broken English, “I know what you are. Meet outside locker room when team leave.” Dizzy and frightened that he was going to be exposed as a fraud, Patrick had to obey.

Instead, they had ended up naked in Patrick’s hotel room. Geno had forced Patrick to his knees, back up against the wall and hands held hostage above his head. Standing over him, the Alpha Russian had thrust his huge, erect cock into the omega’s eager mouth, hitting the gag reflex at the back of his throat. Patrick had swallowed around him. Geno had groaned out, half in Russian, half in English, that he was a good omega, so pretty and obedient, taking cock so nicely. He had spilled down Patrick’s throat then jerked the omega to completion because he wasn’t a selfish lover. A little while later, in the shower, Geno had picked Patrick up by the ass and fucked him against the tile wall. Patrick had wrapped his legs around the Alpha’s waist, arms about his neck, body open, taking the long, thick cock spearing into his ass. Geno’s big palm over his mouth had muffled the moans and cries of pleasure every time the bulbous head pushed against his prostate.

“Shhh, pretty boy, don’t want teammates to hear,” Geno had murmured, breath hot against Patrick’s ear. That low, gravelly voice had done him in; Patrick keening out his orgasm, ass clutching at the rutting thickness until it was spurting him full of Alpha seed.

They had both thought it would be a one-time thing. Until a week later when Patrick was in full heat, desperate, and he knew Geno was still in the States celebrating the Stanley Cup victory with his team. He had sent a text. Three hours later, the Alpha Russian had been on his doorstep in Hamburg, New York. They spent that weekend in Patrick’s bed; Geno fucking the omega until his insatiable need was just a dull itch. Both taking what they wanted — what they needed — from each other’s bodies.

Patrick quickly learned that Geno was the definition of a cuddler; soft, warm and gooey, especially after sex. At first, Patrick had been leery of even falling asleep together. After that first weekend, he vowed to never let his shot wear off, taking his pill religiously, ensuring he would not lose control of himself like that again. As soon as they were done, he would gather his clothes, make up some excuse about an early morning workout or not wanting to get caught, and Geno would pout but let him go. Geno had gone back to Russia in July, and even though they Skyped every other day, Patrick had realized he missed the Russian’s casual touches and engulfing hugs.

During the hockey season, their teams did not face each other as much as the previous year, but any time they were within three driving hours of each other, it was like nothing would keep them apart. Sometimes, Patrick would fall asleep from pure exhaustion after a hockey game and good fuck, but he always woke up a couple hours later. He had become an expert at stealthily extracting himself from Geno’s octopus embrace and slipping out the front door without a sound. Then, Geno announced he was staying in Pittsburgh for the summer, and there was no way Patrick was going to drive the three hours back to New York in the middle of the night.

It’s not like he could kick Geno out of his place either. Although, sometimes Patrick woke up feeling claustrophobic and had to go sleep the rest of the night on the couch just to get his breathing and heart rate under control. The longer Geno chose to keep him around, however, the more Patrick found he liked the warmth and strength of the Alpha’s body against his. He felt safe at his most vulnerable in a way he never had or thought he ever could.

Right now, the warmth was too much. He was too hot. Patrick managed to slip out from under Geno’s arm around his waist, untangling their legs as he slid out of bed. Throwing on one of Geno’s extra large Team Russia t-shirts—because fuck if he would be caught dead wearing anything with the words _Pittsburgh_ or _Penguins_ on it—Patrick padded across the master suite to the French doors that opened out to the balcony. Stepping outside, he already felt more calm. Like he could breathe again, and it had nothing to do with the heat. Being around Geno overloaded his senses; colors too vivid, noises magnified, the earthy Alpha scent that is Geno—like evergreens, snow, and the Cuban cigars he indulged in on occasion—strong enough to make Patrick light-headed. No other Alpha had this effect on him. So what made this particular oversized Russian so special, so intoxicating?

He wasn’t foolish enough to think, or even want, whatever they were doing to be anything other than sex; an Alpha asserting his dominance over an omega so they both get what they need. A practical bond to fulfill their basic carnal needs. None of Patrick’s teammates knew what he was or what he and Geno were doing, and Sid was the only one on Geno’s team who knew about their extracurriculars. Though he had no clue Patrick was an omega. So that’s all this _can_ be: sex. A sexual release to allow Geno to play hockey with less aggression and for both of them to be clear-minded, focused only on the game when they were on the ice.

A soulbond was something completely different. Unbreakable. Love. A desire that goes beyond lust and satisfying sexual needs for those bonded. Alphas could find them with anyone, at any age. Omegas generally needed to be soulbonded by their 30th birthday or, chances are, they would remain unbound the rest of their lives. Which was not ideal, especially in later years because things like job security, health care and pension funds favor Alphas and betas.

Patrick was only 19, still a teenager. He had plenty of time before he needed to worry about all of that. Maybe he would not need to at all because, if the Blackhawks actually signed him to the contract currently being swirled through the rumor mill, then money would never be an issue for him again. Besides, he was also pretty sure Geno and Sid were soulmates, so this thing he and Geno were doing had to end eventually. Whenever Sid and Geno were ready to settle down. Therefore, this—what Patrick was doing with Geno—was absolutely not a soulbond. It was _not_ love. So why did he have to remind himself of that truth? Why did his stomach lurch at the thought of anyone else, even Sid, touching Geno and knowing his body in the way Patrick did?

Pittsburgh was an ugly city with its factories and steel mills, smokestacks blocking the horizon like a mountain range of pollution. All concrete and metal compacted into the delta between the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers. Patrick hated it. Even Chicago was more spread out with gorgeous lake views and green grass parks dotted among the architecture.

Geno’s balcony overlooked one of the rivers, with the downtown skyline in the distance, and this was probably the only view of Pittsburgh Patrick did not hate. From here he could watch the sunrise in streaks of pink, purple and orange across the sky, reflecting off the still water. He knew most of the city was awake by now; men and women headed to work in the mills, office buildings and storefronts. The barges and cargo ships on the river being filled and powered up to carry steel and coal to other cities and towns along the river. But everything was just far enough away that his spot on Geno’s balcony was peaceful, his own little escape.

Except that he could not escape the thoughts constantly rolling around his brain; the worry that he’ll be found out and banned from playing hockey forever. That he could possibly drag Geno down with him if this all went bad. Which always brought him back to questioning if all this was even worth it. If it was just casual for both of them, then it would not be a big deal to stop. It only hurts if feelings are involved, and that is not the case here….right? He was a young fucking hot NHL superstar. It’s not like men and women were not lining up to have their chance with Patrick Kane.

Suddenly, he felt a strong arm circle around his waist and soft lips brush against the back of his neck. A sleepy, cuddly Russian wound his big body around Patrick and held on.

“Why face look like that?” Geno kissed Patrick’s cheek before dropping his lips into all those blonde curls he loved so much.

“Like what?” Patrick let his body sink into Geno’s much larger one, some of the tension easing immediately at the care and concern that came so easily to the Alpha Russian.

“Like worry and sad. Same face you make when Penguins win Stanley Cup last year,” Geno murmured, nuzzling his face into Patrick’s neck, stubble gently scratching at the tender flesh. “What going on in pretty head, hmm?”

“Just thinking….about next season and what we need to do to start winning. About my family and how much I miss them,” Patrick’s fingers idly stroked over Geno’s arms wrapped around his torso. “About us.”

Perking up at that last part, Geno shifted so he could look into Patrick’s face, “You never say ‘us’. Talk to me, sweet boy. Say what you feel. I’m not judge.”

His heart constricted—as if Geno actually reached into his chest and wrapped a fist around the beating muscle—at the thought that Geno had noticed and was keeping track. Referring to them as ‘us’ was too intimate, as if they were a couple, which they are not. It was easy for the Alpha Russian to be open about who he was and what he felt. Of course no one judged or questioned him; he was the leader of the pack, a giant among common men. Patrick did not have that luxury. Every day he had to hide who he was and be careful of his actions and words so as not to give himself away.

Refusing to turn and face the inquisitive Alpha, Patrick quietly asked, “Have you ever thought about how we would explain….this….to our families and friends?”

Geno frowned, “No. We agree to keep secret. Why tell? Not want be found out.”

Patrick’s heart dropped, but not because the Alpha’s answer was unexpected. Rather, it was exactly what they had agreed to last year when they started. It’s what they both wanted; what will keep Patrick protected. He had hoped, maybe….that’s what got him in trouble. Hope. He just had to be more like Geno, living in the moment and being happy with what they had. Obviously, it was enough for Geno, so it had to be enough for him too.

“Yeah. Thank you for that,” Patrick stared out over the river, silent, Geno still clinging to him.

He kissed Patrick’s neck again, lips grazing over the soft spot under his ear, “You know can go home if you miss family, yes? I'm not keep you here against will.”

“I know. You’re so good to me, Geno,” Patrick did turn this time so they were face-to-face and lifted up onto his tiptoes to peck a quick kiss to the taller man’s full lips.

Smirking, Geno ran his big palms down the teenager’s sides before gripping Patrick’s hips and pulling him flush against his body. He rolled his pelvis, forcing his morning wood into Patrick’s lower belly, “This what you do to me. Be good boy. Come back to bed.”

Biting his lip and looking up at the Alpha from under long eyelashes, Patrick braced his hands on Geno’s broad, bare shoulders, “Or you could take me right here. Fuck me on the lounger, in your t-shirt.”

With a growl, Geno lifted the omega by the meat of his ass, his legs hooking around Geno’s waist and their lips crashing together in a passionate kiss. Patrick sighed, lips parting for Geno’s tongue to sweep through his mouth; tasting. The Alpha taking what he wanted but not more than what the omega was willing to give. That’s what made him a good Dom, and what Patrick found irresistible. He sucked on Geno’s tongue before they broke the kiss, both gasping for air as Geno deposited him on the lounger.

“Stay,” the Alpha ordered roughly, and Patrick obeyed.

***

Geno went back into his bedroom then reappeared seconds later with the bottle of lube, which he set on the ground before straddling his omega again. In a gesture of submissiveness, Patrick turned his head to the side, tilting his head back slightly to expose his neck; fully vulnerable to the huge Alpha looming over him. Geno buried his face in the crook of that sweet expanse of skin, breathing in Patrick’s distinct omega scent, like strawberries growing in a field of sunflowers. A little sweet, a little bitter, and so fucking heady. He couldn't help biting hard enough to leave a mark. Patrick hissed, but then Geno’s tongue was a soothing balm licking over the bruise, lips kissing away the pain like an apology.

“Sweet,” Geno murmured, nosing the blonde curls at Patrick’s temple and spreading light kisses across his face. “Like peaches in middle of summer.” One hand slid over Patrick’s hip, grabbing a handful of firm, teenaged hockey ass. Mewls spilled from the omega’s plush lips when Geno’s fingers skimmed down his crack, and he opened his legs even wider, lifting his knees on either side of the Alpha’s ribs. Geno did not need an invitation, but when his omega willingly spread out for him, it made him horniest of all knowing Patrick was eager to please him. And he did; he always pleased Geno in new and exciting ways. Like this morning seeing his own country’s colors on the otherwise naked American; that pert little ass barely covered by the hem of the T-shirt that the smaller teenager was swimming in otherwise. The boy was so goddamn cute; Geno was going to absolutely wreck him.

Half-lidded eyes gazed up at the Alpha as Patrick’s tongue poked out of his mouth to wet his red, swollen lips. Geno was now fully hard in his boxers, and it struck him just how much power the submissive had over him. It was terrifying. Physically, Geno could—and often did—dominate the omega in every way, but it did not take long for him to realize Patrick held a piece of his heart and soul. It was Patrick’s to either protect or crush, though Geno would never admit as much, of course. His pleasure did not come from taking whatever he wanted; that was too easy, expected even. Every time Patrick willingly came to him, moaned under his touch, spent the whole night in his bed, begged for his cock, opened up for Geno like a rose in bloom was another brick crumbling in the wall Patrick had spent years carefully constructing around his heart.

Geno ran the tip of his index finger over Patrick’s lips, and they parted for him. Patrick’s tongue curled around the digit, drawing it into his mouth, sucking and laving as Geno’s middle finger joined the first. His thumb caressed Patrick’s strong jawline while his free hand rucked the T-shirt up the omega’s waist and pushed under it to find perky nipples. He pinched those sensitive peaks, rolling then between his fingers, thrilling at the soft gasp Patrick let escape his throat. Then he was pulling his wet fingers from the omega’s mouth and shoving them into Patrick’s hole. Geno had fucked him less than seven hours ago, but he was still so tight and Patrick cried out at the sudden invasion, back arching up off the lounger. His hands instinctively went for his hard, exposed cock, but Geno batted them away. So Patrick chose to grip the bends of his knees to keep them splayed.

“Naughty boy,” Geno tsked, “you come when I say.” He pulsed his fingers into the omega’s tight heat in tandem with his other hand teasing the boy’s nipples. Patrick squirmed under him. When Geno crooked his fingers, scissoring them against the boy’s prostate, he was rewarded with a throaty yelp.

“Geno! Fuck! Please!”

The Russian Alpha’s blood-filled cock ached to be buried inside Patrick’s creamy, hairless hole, but not yet. He wanted Patrick mindless. Geno lowered his mouth to suck Patrick’s lower lip between his teeth, alternating between licking and nipping while his fingers continued their assault down below.

“Disrespectful boys don’t get what they want,” Geno growled, accent thick, their lips touching but not moving; sharing the same oxygen. “How you ask nice?”

“Sir,” Patrick managed to gasp out. “Please put your big Alpha cock inside me, Sir. Fuck me until I’m full of your cum.”

“There’s my good, obedient Patrick,” Geno withdrew his fingers and pulled his boxers down far enough to free himself. He squirted a decent amount of lube on his cock, stroking it down the shaft, then gripped the boy’s ankle and dragged his ass closer to the edge of the lounger. Geno lined himself up between Patrick’s legs but did not push in. Caressing a hand through Patrick’s sweaty curls, thumb sweeping across his chin, Geno tilted the teenager’s face up. “Guide me in, sweet boy.”

Blindly reaching around and up to cup the root of Geno’s erection in one hand and clutching his thigh with the other, Patrick pulled the Alpha closer until the fat head of his cock breached the tight ring of skin and muscle. Geno pushed his hips in, filling Patrick’s hot channel, watching the omega’s face contort into pleasurable pain at the intrusion. Leaning down, Geno covered Patrick’s mouth with his own to swallow the boy’s whimpers because no matter how much he was fingered open or fucked, the initial stretch of being speared on Geno’s huge cock was shocking. He kissed Patrick sweet and slow, tongues lazily exploring each other’s mouths until the whimpers became sighs. It was not long before Patrick wriggled his hips, and Geno pulled out until the head of his cock tugged against the boy’s rim, then plunged back into his tight wet heat. Patrick cried out.

This time, Geno did not try to muffle the sound. He fucked into the boy with hard snaps of his hips, watching Patrick’s pretty, flushed face soften with ecstasy; eyes half-lidded, bright red lips, chapped from kissing, falling open. The whiney, breathy noises Patrick made only urged Geno faster, harder, his world reduced to the omega’s slick channel wrapped around his driving cock and the overwhelming need to _take_. Own what was his.

Patrick was fully hard, leaking erection rubbing against Geno’s belly with each thrust in, but he was being so good by keeping his hands either on his Alpha’s body or fingers clutching at the soft lounger cushions. Entwining their fingers, Geno pinned the boy’s hands against the back of the lounger above his head, and Patrick whimpered when Geno’s rutting hips canted up. His cockhead rubbed over the spot that made Patrick keen and arch his back, so Geno did it again….and again until the boy was a writhing mess under him.

“You need come, baby boy?” Geno growled in Patrick’s ear, fucking him deep and steady. “You need Alpha cock filling you up?”

“Yes, Sir,” Patrick groaned. “Oh fuck, please, may I come, Sir?”

“Not yet.”

The boy whined and cried out; Geno pumped his cock into Patrick’s greedy hole at a frenzied pace. Releasing Patrick’s hands and pulling him even closer, Geno slowed and bent down, trapping the omega’s weeping cock between their bodies and spearing into him with deep, forceful thrusts. Every hard fuck in jarred the boy deeper into the cushions, pushing whimpering gasps from his throat. Patrick looked so beautiful underneath him, desperate for release but willing to obey and please his Alpha; trusting Geno to take care of him and satisfy his needs. Such a heady thought that Geno had that kind of power over his submissive. He kissed Patrick’s red swollen lips as his cock plunged to the hilt inside the creamy heat, deliberately rubbing Patrick’s cock along his abs.

“Come for me, baby boy,” Geno growled against the boy’s ear, teeth clamping down on the bruise he had left on Patrick’s neck earlier. The omega cried out his Alpha’s name as he fell over the edge, tears leaking from his eyes and body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. Streams of milky cum shot across their bellies. Geno wrapped his arms around Patrick so there was no space between them. Patrick’s toes curled, freed arms circling Geno’s neck, clinging to the Dom like an anchor in the pleasurable storm roiling through him. He buried his face in Geno’s sweaty hair as the cock inside him swelled even more, feeling impossibly larger, stretching his already over-sensitive walls until it felt as though that Alpha cock might split him in two.

Geno bred his omega, grinding into Patrick’s sweet ass until his knot caught on the boy’s rim, and the slick walls contracting around his engorged cock made him shatter. His cock pulsed his load deep into Patrick’s womb. Geno captured Patrick’s mouth again as his balls drained, filling the boy with his seed.

“Someday I’m make you fat with pups,” Geno murmured against his omega’s lips. He spread quick kisses down Patrick’s neck, licking over the bruised bite mark he had left on the boy’s otherwise flawless skin. Despite the gentle touch, Patrick hissed and nuzzled further into Geno’s hair. “Look pretty all swollen with babies. Part you, part me.”

***

Patrick wished Geno would just shut up. Sniffling, he hid his tear-streaked face in Geno’s neck, filled to bursting with semen and Alpha cock. But he wanted to cover his ears or clamp a palm over Geno’s mouth to stop the sweet words. Of course, Geno did not mean them; they were just things cum-dumb Alphas say when they’re knotted inside an omega. Geno probably did not even realize what was coming out of his mouth or how the sweet nothing promises hit Patrick’s heart like a hard check into the boards; making him want things he cannot have.

Finally, the cock inside Patrick softened and he whimpered as Geno pulled out of his raw hole. Then the big Alpha lifted him bridal-style as if he weighed nothing and carried him back to bed. Patrick’s eyes followed Geno’s movements as his large hands straightened his own shirt down over Patrick’s sticky, cum-covered torso. He wanted to cry again at the gentleness with which Geno pressed a kiss to his forehead and maneuvered them so they were spooned together; the Alpha’s long arm draped snug across Patrick’s waist and one thick leg pushed between his.

“We probably ruined your shirt,” Patrick mumbled sleepily.

“Is okay, babe, have more,” Geno pressed his face into the back of Patrick’s neck, day-old stubble scratching against the heated flesh there. Patrick shivered at the sensations fluttering down his spine, through his belly. Geno’s hold tightened as he repeated the action, rubbing his chin along Patrick’s neck before nuzzling into the wet curls at his nape. Before sleep consumed him, Patrick wondered how many more of these mornings with Geno he had left and if the break would be as clean and painless as he had originally planned.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave comments. I haven't decided if this is finished yet.


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